Tragedy and Comedy

Middle Child started high school this Fall. She whined and complained about taking Technical Theatre, but she will need a fine art credit for graduation, so she was stuck in the class. The first day MC came home and recounted with horror that Tech Theatre was a whole class of guys, a mute girl, our girl, and a Queen Bee mean girl. Two weeks later, our whiny girl is gushing about her favorite class of the whole day: Technical Theatre. There are the funniest boys in there. Hahahaha. Mmmhmm. There are two names repeated often, but we'll just call them Tragedy and Comedy.

She spends a weekend texting back and forth with Tragedy relating selected texts to me, and we end up in a department store because the topic of the texts is homecoming. She's going to need a dress for the dance if she has a, gulp, date, and she will still need a dress if she goes as planned with a group of friends. She tries on the first dress, but it's ho-hum at best. The second one is cute, but it's a little snug on her so Mom dutifully goes out and returns with the next size up. The dress is perfect on her. She inserts in her message to the boy that she just got her dress. Tragedy asks if she would say, "Yes!" if Comedy asked her to homecoming. Eh?
Before she responds, I explain that Tragedy may have been chatting her up to pave the way for his friend. (It happens. No one likes to be shot down, but, on the other hand, it would stink to go to one of the big events of the school year with someone who would just as soon go with someone else.) I then ask if she would be interested in going to homecoming specifically with Tragedy, or if she might want to go with Comedy. (I also warn her that this could be a trick question, so she waits a moment to answer him while considering the many possibilities.) She gives a careful, noncommittal response that leaves either avenue open without sounding like jerk.
That same night, Tragedy nearly causes a fire in his kitchen trying to get a homecoming invite into a fortune cookie. This seems significant because the week before, Middle Child had posted her fortune from another cookie on her Facebook page. (Facebook would be one of the easiest places to get clues about her for a guy who has had limited opportunity to figure out her likes and dislikes.) He specifically asked her if she liked fortune cookies in the intervening days, so it's looking increasingly likely that a homecoming invitation from Tragedy is forthcoming. She will probably say, "Yes." Even though she has heard that Comedy likes her, he has not been texting as much as Tragedy.

Monday dawns, and she (Well, we... I hope I'm not one of those creepy moms who is way too into her kids' lives...) anticipates that the day will bring a homecoming invitation. It doesn't because Tragedy gives what may well have been a custom invite for our girl to another girl with the same name two class periods before he sees our girl. His thin explanation is that he, "...freaked out, and [he] thought, she'd shoot him down." Really?! Tragedy is now marked, "Clearly Unworthy" after this disappointment. Comedy was absent, but it gives Middle Child a day to think about whether she just wants to go to the game and dance with her friends, or if perhaps Comedy is going to ask her.
The next day, in the Drama Room, Comedy delivers a note asking if Middle Child will go to homecoming with him. (He manages to give the note intended for her to her, so he's already looking pretty good in Mom's book.) She accepts. Butting in, I also mention to her that it would be wise to simply rewrite Tragedy's plans assuming that he gave his invitation to the girl he really liked. In accepting Comedy's invitation, she needs to be sure she's not even a little moony-eyed over Tragedy. She appears to have accepted this advice along with the date. So, now it's on with the show.